Page 91 of My Hellion, My Heart
“Putting an end to this frigidity nonsense, and also doing what I’ve dreamed of doing since the Yardley.”
Her cheeks burned red as she bit her lips. Henry grinned, and kissed her stomach. “Relax.”
“It isn’t proper,” she whispered, her face flaming.
“Did it feel good?” Biting her lips harder, she nodded. Henry chuckled as he blew against her womanhood. “It felt good to me, too.”
Irina’s back arched like a bow as he put his lips to her core, effectively silencing any other protest. His tongue traced a hot path through her curls and the soft folds beneath them. Sighing at the honeyed taste of her, Henry nipped, licked, and swirled his tongue against her, delighting in the little moans she made, telling him what she liked and what she loved. Like when he scraped his teeth against her tiny nub, or when he flicked his tongue just so. Her fingers fisted into the sheets and then shifted to wind tightly into his hair as her breathing flattened and shortened, the muscles in her legs clamping about his shoulders.
“Henry,Henry…”
Acquiescing to her tortured pleas, Henry didn’t slow his pace, his mouth worshipping her as Irina’s entire body tensed. Her hands stilled for an infinitesimal moment before she whimpered his name and then cried out from the force of the pleasure rocking through her. She hadn’t stopped trembling when Henry eased himself up her frame, kissing his way along her stomach and breasts, to hold her quivering body in his arms.
“You are indecently wicked,” she said to him, burying her heated face against his chest. “My utterly cankerous, shamelessly wicked earl.”
“I fear that’s just the start of it, my love.”
With a wicked grin of her own, Irina’s hand wandered down the hard planes of his chest, skipping past his stomach to the rigid bulge in his trousers. He sucked in a sharp breath as she stroked him boldly through the material. “Surely there’s not more?”
Henry laughed as he nuzzled her throat, lifting her so that she was half draped over him. “As you have discovered, there is much,muchmore.”
…
Irina wasn’t afraid. Not truly. But that did not mean she wasn’t a little apprehensive, especially as she felt the length of him through his trousers. She squirmed against the tide of longing deep inside of her, in the very places Henry had just created a raging tempest. It had been a storm of pleasure, his mouth and tongue and teeth tossing her upward on ever-rising crests. From those few moments of shocked thrill at the Yardley, when he’d first set his mouth to her body, she had known it would feel exquisite to have him make love to her in such a way. But she had not anticipated the feeling of leaving the world behind and only existing right now, only for him, only for this.
She stroked Henry again and swelled with pride at the sound of his shuddering exhale. She loved knowing that her touch affected him as much as his affected her. It made her feel powerful. And emboldened. Watching him carefully, she closed her fingers around him through the material, marveling at the hard feel of him. But then again, Henry was hard everywhere—his chest, his shoulders, his stomach, and nowhere. Her fingers continued their soft exploration until he made a sound that was half growl, half laugh.
“Stop, my love,” he whispered, covering her hand with his and gently removing it from his erection. “Any more of that and I won’t last much longer.”
Though Irina wasn’t quite clear, she thought she knew what that meant. She simply had to touch him, though. Her fingers skipped up his side, counting each rib, circling his flat male nipple, and making him utter a small rumble of pleasure.
“I like touching you,” she said softly, leaning forward to press her lips to it. Irina could feel his pulse leaping beneath her touch, and she smiled. “Do you like it when I do this?”
His voice was a rasp, his fingers tightening on her arms. “Yes.”
She nibbled her way across his chest to the other side, her tongue flicking across its twin. “What about when I do this?”
He inhaled sharply. “Easy, my little seductress.”
“You don’t like it?” she asked, hiding her smile.
“You know I do.”
Henry groaned, rolling her over to her back and raising up onto his elbows to stare at her. Irina did the same, memorizing the angular planes of his face. Her fingers wandered over his jaw. He hadn’t shaved, and his chin and cheeks were covered in golden stubble. It gave him a raffish look that she found extraordinarily appealing.
Henry was so handsome, it made her heart hurt. Irina loved everything about him—his wide brow, his straight nose, his seductive and exceedingly talented mouth. She blushed at the thought of where that mouth had just been, and felt a new rush of heat settle between her thighs. Sweet Lord, she wanted him to touch her again…coax her to the edge and toss her over. But this time she wanted to take him with her.
As if he could read her wanton thoughts, Henry’s eyes turned the color of warmed honey and gleamed with a mixture of desire and amusement. Blushing furiously, she lowered her eyes, though her palms continued their slow expedition, skimming over his hips and up the small of his back, over hard muscle and smooth skin. A small purr of pleasure escaped his lips. But then, moving higher, she felt the sudden change in texture. A coarse stretch of scar tissue. Irina lifted her fingers, pulling away, though reluctantly.
Henry, his mouth nuzzling her neck, tensed above her. “I understand if you don’t want to touch me there.”
His voice was so soft, and though she knew he would hate it, vulnerable.
“It’s not that,” she said, feeling awful that she’d flinched. It hadn’t been for the reason he likely imagined. “I see the way you walk and sit sometimes…you’re stiff, like it pains you.” Irina kissed the lobe of his ear. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
With a laughing growl, Henry angled his head closer to kiss her mouth. His teeth gently nipped her bottom lip. “It only hurts when you don’t touch me.”
Irina settled her hands back upon his skin. “So this…feels good?”
